Are You Being Served?

television series

Are You Being Served? ("AYBS") was a British sitcom broadcast from 1972 to 1985. In all 69 episodes were televised and also included one motion picture with the same title. In 1992, many of the main characters were reprised in a short lived follow-up series, Grace and Favour (later known as Are You Being Served, Again?).

Mr Lucas: Yes, yes, very poor part of Highgate mind, I mean... And ever since we took in that Asian to help make ends meet, well... The strain has been too much for my crippled mother and she's had to give up her job at the skating rink. Taking the tickets.

Mr Rumbold: I had no idea!

Mr Lucas: Yes... Well... [Pretending to hold back tears] What with that, and the fact that the... The cat's got asthma and has been coughing all night. What with all that and also the fact that we have to cook on a broken old gas ring, well... There are days when somehow, life seems to have lost its magic. And particularly since we had an eviction note this morning! But as you suggest, Mr Rumbold, I will do my best and try and smile a bit more.

[The staff are being purposely rude to customers in order to be dismissed]

Mr. Grainger: [To customer] And that's because you've got a fat face, piggy eyes, and a... a pimple, on your nose. [Turns to Humphries and Lucas] You young salesmen just don't know how not to sell clothes.

[The two are counting out wads of money gifted to them by wealthy Arab gentlemen.]

Mr. Humphries and Mr. Lucas: One for them and one for us, one for them and one for us, one for them and one for us. [Man holds up knife threateningly] All for them and none for us, all for them and none for us.

[Mrs. Peacock cries when she sees Mr. Rumbold's secretary, whom she believes has been having an affair with her husband] Mrs. Slocombe: I notice she didn't cry like that when she thought it was me. Mr. Lucas: Funny that...

Mr. Rumbold: Yes, well there are one or two teething troubles, but I'm sure you'll soon get the gist of what we're trying to do. Show him, Mr Harman! There's going to be one in each department for Christmas.

Captain Peacock: [After viewing a sales model with rotating breasts] Excuse me Madam, I wonder if we could interest you in the new "Flexi-bra". However wayward your figure, the Flexi-bra will cling to it, and control it. [Shows her model]

Madam: I know all about them, thank you. In fact, I wear one. [Opens coat to reveal her breasts rotating like the models]

Sir: And I have the matching pants. [Turns to reveal his buttocks rotating in the same fashion]

[Mr Harman is talking to Young Mr. Grace about his office furniture, but the staff are outside the door listening, thinking he is reciting their medical examination results]

Mr. Grace: [Wearing glasses] I can't find me spectacles, you read it.

Mr Harman: Uh, yes. Now, this is the oldest. [Points to chest of drawers]

Mr. Grace: The bow front with the short legs?

Mrs. Slocombe: That'll be you, Mr. Goldberg!

Mr. Goldberg: Shh! I want to hear!

Mr. Harman: The top's in very good condition, bit of dry rot in the leg, and the knob's going to fall off! [Mr Goldberg is shocked)

Young Mr. Grace: What about that pretty little piece?

Mrs. Slocombe: That must be you, Miss Brahms.

Mr. Lucas: Well, it certainly won't be you!

Mr. Harman: Outwardly, in very good condition. Unfortunately it's got a screw loose! And the knockers aren't genuine...

Miss. Brahms: [Outraged] Blummin' cheek!!

Mr. Harman: That brings me to this one, here.

Mr. Grace: Oh, the big chest?

Mrs Slocombe: [Appears uncomfortable]

Mr. Harman: Once used by a lot of soldiers, there was a lot of odd things found in the drawers, which once removed, you could plainly see the ravages of time. Oh, and there's rising damp in the bottom. Now, we come to the pouf.

Mr. Humphries: [Looks embarrassed]

Mr. Harman: Outwardly in very good condition. A bit older than it looks, a bit saggy in the middle, and probably worth hanging onto if you're prepared to have it stuffed!

[Humphries comes in wearing a plastic bag that covers all of his body except his face]

Mr. Humphries: Before you say anything, I've got to use this because me mother's got me raincoat to queue up for her disability pension. I borrowed it off a very nice girl punk rocker that lives next door. It was her bridal gown.

Mrs. Slocombe: Don't tell me she got married in that.

Mr. Humphries: Married? She lived in it for a week with the groom before they found somewhere to squat.

Mr. Humphries: Why has Mr Spooner been blackballed?

Mrs. Slocombe: Because the fireman wanted a clear passage.

Mr. Humphries: No further questions!

Cook: That's enough out of you. I'm under a great strain, cooking for you lot!

Miss Brahms: You'd be under a lot more strain if you had to eat it!

Mr Humphries: [Recounting recent visit to the doctors] Oh yes, well after a very rigorous examination, he looked at me and said: "I can't find anything wrong with you." Which surprised me, so I asked for a second opinion.

Mr Spooner: Did you get one?

Mr Humphries: Hmm, from the window cleaner, but we closed the curtains and ignored him.

Mr. Humphries: Well, Mrs. Peacock loves Captain Peacock, and Captain Peacock, alias Jack the Lad loves Mrs. Peacock, although he's got a very strange way of showing it. And Mr. Rumbold, it appears, was just masquerading, and I know from long experience that only leads to trouble. Ooh, and the maintenance men who have the wherewithal to open the locked window have just come out the pub.

Captain Peacock: It's alright for Miss Brahms; I mean, she can always get married to somebody who could keep her in a manner to which she's been accustomed.

Miss Brahms: "I don't want to live in the manner to which I've been accustomed. I mean, coming to work here every day, Larry Grayson Saturday, roast and two-veg Sunday... I want some excitement - I want to do something with me life! I'm looking for Dallas and all I'm getting is Coronation Street!"

Mrs. Slocombe: *gasps* You've brought on my dream! Last night I dreamed that you were Squirrel Nutkin and I was a little lady squirrel. And you built your house half way up an oak tree.

Mr. Humphries: Was it thatched in dandelion leaves?

Mrs. Slocombe: *gasps again* How'd you guess?

Mr. Humphries: I never use anything else!

Mrs. Slocombe: Well, anyway, I climbed up your tree and I knocked on your little door, only you pretended you weren't in, so I had to kick it down. And there you were, hiding behind your acorns. What do you suppose that means?

Mr. Humphries: It means that I'll have to build it a good size higher next year.

Mrs. Slocombe: [To Miss Brahms. after the latter has caught her in the fitting room drinking alcohol] I'm just taking me slimming pill; only I've run out of water, and I can't bear neat gin.

[Mrs. Slocombe, suitably fortified with gin and tonic, deals with a customer wishing to return a cardigan]

Mr. Humphries: Do you know, a lot of people ask that. Apparently, this was made for Mrs. Thatcher but when she got there, she said she wanted to be treated like any other woman going down a mine... and she was.

Mr. Spooner: Now I know why the miners said "One out, the lot out".

Captain Peacock: I say, that hasn't cooled me down at all.

Mrs. Slocombe: Put it away, Miss Brahms.

Old Mr. Grace: Happy birthday, dear brother.

Young Mr. Grace: It's not my birthday, you silly old fool. No wonder the department is losing money.

Mr. Humphries: About time, too. It's very draughty out here. Up a bit, George.

[George pulls up the machine until Humphries can clamber into the office]

Mr. Humphries: This is as far as I go. Thanks for the lift. Oh...

Mr. Rumbold: This is most irregular.

Mr. Humphries: I was just only using my initiative. I knew that the outside of the building was being painted, and after a little light banter with the workmen every morning, I took the advantage of their kind offer of a lift.

[Humphries walks to the door but stops just as Mrs. Slocombe notices handprint on Humphries' overcoat]

Mrs Slocombe: There's white paint on the back of your coat.

Mr. Humphries: That must have been where I lost my nerve and he tried to steady me. D'you know I've no head for heights. And he was well over six foot tall.

Mrs. Slocombe: Hello pet, it's your mistress speaking. Now listen, I'm gonna be later than I thought. So why don't you lay down on that big comfy bed of yours and when I come home I'll tickle your tummy all over.

[Everyone rolls their eyes]

Mrs. Slocombe: Oh, I'm soo sorry Mr. Akbar! I must have misdialed. It's your neighbor Mrs. Slocombe... What do you mean, you leave your key under the mat?

[Later]

Mrs. Slocombe: Oh my little pet, I'm ever so sorry, but I'll make it up to you when I get home. Why don't you open your little flap and play with your ball? [Listens] Mr. Akbar, how dare you!